


Endless Time

by The_Florian_Triangle



Category: One Piece
Genre: Hallucinations, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pain in general, Self Loathing, WARNING WARNING, i guess?????
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:27:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23832361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Florian_Triangle/pseuds/The_Florian_Triangle
Summary: Nothing could have prepared Deuce as a child for the visceral disgust in himself that spent his nights crushing his ribs back against his spine.
Relationships: Masked Deuce/Portgas D. Ace
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	Endless Time

**Author's Note:**

> This might actually be shorter than the Reiju/Conis thing. 
> 
> For Chromi, who liked this and said such sweet things about it that I actually cried.

Nothing could have prepared Deuce as a child for the visceral disgust in himself that spent his nights crushing his ribs back against his spine. The nights were often where he stumbled into his room, slamming the door and swiping everything off of his desk onto the floor for a clean paper and a pen. All so he could sit in silence and miasma for four hours, trying to express himself and how much he hated who he was. 

Nothing was lovable or even vaguely redeemable about him. His body, personality, history— nothing in any of these categories glinted enough for a magpie, let alone a human. And there it was. He was a terribly, obscenely, offensively dull man masquerading as a person of interest. Any fool could put a passable sentence down on paper. He didn’t even deserve to hate himself this much. 

Ace had a reason. Ace was interesting, not by virtue of the people who made him, but by virtue of himself. He created a narrative of heroes without so much as a finger lifted, infusing his own ambition in everything and searing his brilliance into anyone who could sense it. 

Deuce created a narrative that wiped people off of the map in a petty, wretched mockery of glory and camaraderie. He threw his pen onto the mess of paper and books, clenching his hands into fists and burying his head in his arms. Couldn’t he just take off his skin and put another person inside? A better, more deserving person? Ace’s loathing was because of someone else, Deuce had nothing to excuse his own violent hatred of his existence. 

He barely felt hands on his shoulders, smoothing down his arms and gently taking his hands in their own. They unclenched his fingers, taking the tension out of his hands and smoothing their thumbs over the half-moons bitten into his palms. 

“I told you to talk to me, Deu.” Deuce sobbed into his arms, trying to dispel the knot of pain in his stomach so he could at least be helpful. 

“You don’t need my problems,” he said harshly. “You’ve enough of your own.” Couldn’t he take that tone away? Couldn’t he at least pretend to be kind? 

“Even so, I have enough room for yours.” Ace gently pried the mask off of Deuce’s face, fingers brushing over his long lashes. “You’re down in that place you go to, I can tell. Where nothing is beautiful.”

“You’re always beautiful,” breathed the hideous monster. Ace smiled, kissing his forehead. 

“Sit with me. You’ll tell me why you think you can’t be loved, and I’ll tell you why you’re wrong.”

“We don’t have time.”

“We have endless time.” This was a lie. They had five minutes before Deuce took his medication and Ace went away. Still, he stood up, sitting down in one of the armchairs and starting to talk, but not before taking the bottle out of his drawer and grinding the pills to dust. Ace wanted time to fix Deuce, and Deuce never stood in the way of what his captain wanted. 


End file.
